Ulfur
Behold the Wolfiest Wolfy Wolf ever. Backstory Loupgarou. A bitter reminder of the possible werewolf ancestry of our race. That's what they called me when I discovered what I was that night, and what they sentenced me to death for being. Thank the spirits I didn't bite the kid, they'd have killed him, too, just to be sure my "curse" didn't spread. Luckily for me, our tribal ceremonies are too important to off a lycanthrope quickly. I was 12 when my tribe imprisoned me and our alpha sent out the call for an emergency meeting with the alphas of the other tribes of our people, after disowning me. Alpha Moot, they call it. Usually only a once or twice a year thing, held in a neutral location, but apparently not, in my case. High Shaman Rufakka even came. She took one look at me and shook her head like my very existence was a burden of shame upon her shoulders. It didn't take long for dear old dad and the the others to reach their decision. Under the light of the second night of the next full moon, ironically the same circumstances that saw my conception and birth, I was to be ceremonially executed with a holy dagger crafted of silver. Some kind of ritual to rebuke whatever powers saw me born as a werewolf. I had a week by that point, and while shamans set up the ceremony, some came by my cage to say goodbye or spit at me, sometimes both. I often wonder what punishments my mother suffered for knocking out the guards and sending me off toward Rike. Might have gotten there, too, if I hadn't lost my sense of direction a few times. I lucked out, coming across a caravan of monks on a pilgrimage. I knew full well they might kill me too, knowing what I was, but I was desperate for help, with my chasers not far behind. Turns out not all monks care who or what someone is, and they took me in, forcing my hunters to give up the chase. Theirs was the law of life, the ebb and flow of the natural world itself. They taught me for a time, while I grew and came to terms with the life I'd have to live. I'd have stayed with them, but I needed to find my own path. Three years in, I thanked them for teaching and protecting me, and we parted ways. Rougarou still hunted me, of course. Any tribe that catches wind of me has leave to hunt me and kill me by the laws of our people, so you can imagine that running was common, sleep was light, and food wasn't granted time to cook. Funny thing about lone wolves, though, we usually seem to find each other. The nice thing about being able to shift into the form of a wolf is talking with them, but that's not special among Rougarou. He told me his name was Runner, and that's what his pack threw him out for; running from a fight to defend the den from a bear. We looked out for each other, though I'll admit he did more for me than I'd have been able to repay him. Those weeks were some of the best sleep I'd had that year, and he helped me hunt, too.... They were good times, and he was the first friend I'd had in months, so forgive my bitter tone regarding the mountain lion that attacked us. He took a hit for me that would have killed me, but it killed him instead. I tore that fucking cat to shreds. This is him that I'm wearing. This pelt, and this bone totem, they're what remains of Runner. As he protected and guided me in life, he now protects and guides me as my totem spirit. Even his death protected me, as it is the highest blasphemy to interrupt someone delivering the Ceremony of Passing. The hunters that happened upon me skinning Runner and carving the bone of his skull left me in peace, with condolences for my loss. It bought me a few days, and when they caught up with me, I'd tired of running. I made sure they were alive before I left them in the woods and covered my scent well enough to avoid tracking, but it's only a matter of time. But now that you know my story, what will you do with it? Appearance Grey fur all over, black in either Dire Wolf form. His claws are more pronounced than most Rougarou. Personality Ulfur is timid and untrusting, on top of not being very talkative. He mostly wants to be left alone, years of experience having taught him that when somebody is paying attention to him, he's in danger. When he does talk, he's crass and blunt, trying to get to the point as quickly as possible. He might be a werewolf, but he abstains from using his bite attack in hybrid and animal forms. He knows what the bite can do to someone, and in his mind, to deliver it is the mark of death. Ulfur will put forth all effort to hunt down and kill someone he's bitten whom has escaped their first skirmish. Friends None yet. Enemies Dedicated werewolf hunters. Aspirations Survival, and giving Rougarou and other werewolf hunters a reason not to hunt him. Category:Player Characters Category:PvP Active